The Agent
by 101Obsessions
Summary: Edgeworth and Wright find a mysterious gun and a Secret Service badge in the possessions of the late Gregory Edgeworth. What secrets were the defence attorney hiding? T for cursing.
1. Chapter 1

**_What do you do if you're _101Obsessions _with several multi-chapter stories you need to update and not enough time to do them in? Add to the workload by starting another! _Genius.**

_**But this idea was too fun to go to waste. What if, when clearing out Miles' dad's old house, Phoenix and Edgeworth discover that Gregory was in fact an agent of Warehouse 13? Because Gregory is so badass, he'd make the world's most awesome Warehouse agent.**_

_**Spoilers for most of Ace Attorney, but not many for Warehouse 13, because this is more from the AA background. I obviously don't own either the games or the TV series, kay?**_

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><p>Phoenix wiped the sweat from his brow, scowling down at the piles of boxes he still had to move. It was late evening, and he'd been working alongside Edgeworth since nine o'clock that morning to move all of the old cardboard boxes out of this dusty attic. It was slow work, and once or twice they'd very nearly had fatal accidents with Phoenix almost falling through the ceiling of the master bedroom and then losing his footing on the ladder whilst carrying a particularly heavy box. Since then, Miles had relegated him to the duty of passing the boxes down as opposed to trying to descend the ladder with the box in his arms himself.<p>

Wincing at the pain shooting through his sore back, Phoenix lifted the nearest box and walked with difficulty over to the trapdoor, where Miles was waiting to receive it. He was somewhat glad when he saw the other man perspiring, having had to take off his jacket and cravat. At least he wasn't the only one tired and sore from this work. He carefully lowered the box through the opening into Edgeworth's waiting arms, then straightened up with relief as Miles went to move the box into the spare room they were using to store the things for now.

Phoenix waited for Miles to return, and as he did he looked slowly around the old attic. He'd only been in here once before, as a child, when playing with the young Miles. It hadn't been nearly so full and dusty then, but then again, Miles' father had still been alive and Gregory Edgeworth had often come up to this attic to store his old things.

As Edgeworth's footsteps came closer, Phoenix turned to call down to his friend.

"It's getting pretty empty, now. Just a few boxes left, and that old chest in the corner. Come and see."

He thought he heard Edgeworth mutter, but the next moment the ladder creaked as the prosecutor clambered up it. The magenta suited man emerged into the attic, brushing himself down before looking around the old room. Phoenix watched the man out of the corner of his eye.

He'd been surprised when Edgeworth had asked him for help clearing out the attic of the old house where Miles had lived with his father, those many years ago. Of course, Phoenix had known the house had belonged to Miles, that had been left in the old defence attorney's will, but never since they had been reunited had Miles even mentioned the place. It was common knowledge that Edgeworth now lived in an expensive condo out of town. Phoenix hadn't realised he'd ever come back.

He'd watched his friend unlock the door with a small, bright key that contrasted sharply with the rust on the lock. He'd watched Miles as the prosecutor had wandered slowly through the old, quiet rooms, everything covered in white tarp sheets that had been laid there nearly 18 years ago. He'd watched the man's face as he'd opened the first of the boxes in the attic to see photographs of himself as a child, smiling and playing with his father.

No one else would have noticed the slight tensing of the man's jaw, the pain in his expression, the tiniest hint of a tear in his eye.

Phoenix had asked, tentatively, if Edgeworth was sure he was ready for all this. He knew that memories of his father, stirred two years back, had resurfaced yet again what with Edgeworth finally resolving the case that had got his father killed. The newly-reinstated prosecutor had tensed, then turned to him, face unreadable.

"Wright, I've been running from this house and the memories of my father for seventeen years. I'm a grown man now. I can't just stand here and pretend this place no longer exists, I can't just let the whole thing rot. Not anymore."

He'd turned back to the box, his shoulders trembling slightly. Phoenix had wanted to comfort him, but knew the kindest thing to do would be to discreetly let the man weep on his own. He hadn't had enough time to mourn as it was.

Now, the pair stood, staring at the old attic, dark squares in the dust showing where the removed boxes had been. Only a few remained. When the defence attorney stepped over and knelt beside them, he saw all were marked with a label bearing the words 'For the Warehouse'.

"What's the Warehouse?" he asked, looking back at Edgeworth.

The other man shrugged.

"No idea. I heard Father mention it once or twice on the phone. I suppose it was somewhere for storing items for long term."

Phoenix looked back at the cardboard, interested.

"And these never got there."

Now he really looked, he saw these had been closed with more care and more security than any of the other packages, taped and taped over again, neat and strong. He was curious. His fingers hovered over the top of the box, and he glanced back at his friend.

"Want to open them?"

Edgeworth shook his head.

"These were my father's private things. He never mentioned the Warehouse directly to me, so these things aren't of my concern."

The spikey-haired man raised an eyebrow.

"What, at all?"

Miles merely strode over to lift one of the various boxes.

"Wright, just shut up and help me get these boxes downstairs. I'll find out where this Warehouse was and have the packages put there just like he intended."

He turned away, heading for the trapdoor, when two things happened. Firstly, the worn cardboard, having been sat in the semi-damp attic for so long, finally gave way – Murphy's Law stating that the bottom of the box, of course, was the part that fell out. Secondly, all manner of objects came tumbling out of the newly-made hole, bouncing off of the floor and Miles' legs.

The prosecutor swore, dropping the empty box and hopping a few seconds on one leg as a particularly heavy item had fallen onto his right foot. Phoenix stifled a snigger in his hand. Miles scowled back at him, gingerly placing his weight back onto his injured foot and wincing.

With a grin, the defence attorney got up to help clear up the mess. Interestingly, the objects that had fallen were all inside individual plastic bags that put him in mind of evidence bags, but these were all opaque silver. They came in infinitely varying sizes, the objects within of all and every shape. Phoenix picked one up, amazed at the feel of it – under the slick plastic, the item was knobbly and lopsided.

"Hey, Miles, are you sure you don't want to open these? I mean, what are they?"

Edgeworth was in the process of gathering the pieces up quickly. He shook his head, not looking at Phoenix as he worked.

"No, Phoenix. These are my father's things, and I have no wish to pry into his affairs."

The defence attorney tossed the object from one hand to the other.

"Aw, you sure? I mean, what if they're evidence for past cases?"

Miles paused at this, but then continued as if nothing had happened.

"Even so, they aren't my concern. My father might have passed on but I wish for him to have the dignity of keeping at least some of his affairs private."

Nodding in defeat, Phoenix helped his friend pick up the objects. There weren't that many of them, but they had scattered to all corners of the attic, annoyingly enough. And some times he tried to pick one up, Edgeworth seemed to get there first. When it happened the third time, he could've sworn he saw the prosecutor smirk.

_So that's how you're playing it, huh?_

He dived for one in the corner, but Miles' hand closed over it first. This time, the smirk was quite obvious as the prosecutor grinned up at his colleague. Phoenix shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but quite ruining the effect by poking his tongue out at the other lawyer.

Miles merely shook his head, picking the piece off of the floor. Something lay underneath it. His hand reached out automatically for it, then stopped in mid-air. Phoenix's eyes were drawn to the object, and he, too, froze. For a while, the two of them stared blankly at it.

Phoenix chuckled nervously.

"M-maybe it fell out of an evidence bag?"

Edgeworth swallowed, then shook his head.

"No, there aren't any empties. And the others are all sealed."

Phoenix licked his lips anxiously, eyes unable to stray from the gun.

It was a very unusual gun. Instead of the sleek black handguns that Phoenix was used to handling as evidence, or the revolvers that the detectives carried, it was smaller, and the barrel appeared to be a thin glass tube with copper wires running through it, a small coil on the end. A gauge was visible on the side of the gun, and the grip and trigger, too, were different.

Miles reached out carefully, then paused, dropping his sleeve over his hand before lifting the gun out of the dust. He stood, cradling it almost as though it would break at his mere touch. Phoenix giggled again, more nervous.

"Very steampunk, hehe. Maybe he, uh, did roleplay?"

Miles wasn't listening. He was muttering, in confusion and disbelief.

"Why did father have a _gun? _Why this gun?"

He stood still for a long time, staring at the weapon. When Phoenix coughed lightly, he didn't move. The defence attorney sighed. Maybe it would be best to leave the man a while. It wasn't every day you learned your father had been keeping a potentially deadly weapon up in your attic.

He glanced around the floor, trying to see if there were any more of the strange bags. No, no bags, but there was one small, leather wallet. As he lifted it, it flopped open, a sudden flash of silver in his face. He blinked, surprised, then focused.

Then froze.

Miles heard the other man's movement cease suddenly, but it took him a few seconds to look up from the strange weapon he still held. Phoenix was bent over at a strange angle, staring at something in his hands with incredulity. Edgeworth tried to speak, but at first all that came out was a croak.

He swallowed, then tried again, this time successful.

"What is it, Wright?"

Very slowly, the other man straightened, still staring at the object in his own hands. He swallowed, then looked up at Miles. The prosecutor couldn't quite work out if the man looked more amazed or scared. The attorney slowly turned the object around to reveal a five-pronged, silver star on the leather. Phoenix swallowed again.

"Miles…your dad…he…he was with the Secret Service."

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><p><strong><em>Dun dun dun, drama! The appearance of the Tesla, and a mysterious Secret Service badge!<em>**


	2. Chapter 2

For a little while, Miles said nothing, merely staring, slack-jawed, at the badge. Phoenix would have been tempted to giggle, the shock on his friend's face was so out of character. Then Edgeworth scowled, warping straight back into his cold prosecutor self.

"Don't be ridiculous, Wright, that's impossible."

He strode over.

"Give that here."

Before Phoenix had a chance to respond, he ripped the badge out of the attorney's hands. Phoenix pouted slightly.

_I should take you out for some manners some time. My treat._

Miles, however, was staring at the badge, holding it up to the light, his eyes scrutinizing the tarnished silver with the same ferocity as a guilty criminal on the stand. He stared at it several seconds, the frown getting more and more angry – when suddenly, it disappeared entirely.

The prosecutor seemed to lose all his rigidness at once. His arms flopped down to his sides, the badge swinging from one hand; he seemed wobbly on his feet; his gaze was distant, staring at the floor but clearly not seeing it. His mouth was slightly open in shock, his eyes almost fearful.

Nervous, Phoenix took a step forward.

"Edgeworth? Miles, are you okay?"

The prosecutor laughed suddenly, a quiet, anxious burst of laughter. Phoenix took another step forward, now very concerned for his friend's sanity. As he reached out to touch the man's arm, Miles looked up, his expression incredulous.

"It's real, Wright. It's a _fucking _Secret Service badge, and it has my father's name on it."

The defence attorney's jaw dropped at the cursing – Edgeworth _never _swore, it was far too crude and common and not perfect enough for his way of life – but Miles didn't seem to notice. He ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them all out of shape, a crazy bird's nest on his head.

Phoenix was getting way too weirded out by all of this.

"Uh, Edgeworth? You're freaking the hell out of me. We've been working our butts off all day, let's just take a break, okay? Get some beer – or tea or whatever it is you drink – and chill out for a while, and we can get back to this later."

Edgeworth turned to look at him, and for the first time Phoenix was glad to see some of the old snarkiness in the man's expression.

"Wright, this is far too a serious matter to 'take a break'. If you weren't paying attention, I have just discovered my father was with the Secret Service."

Determined to hide his relief that Miles hadn't gone spontaneously insane, Phoenix merely frowned and stepped over to the prosecutor, reaching for the badge. He noticed that Miles instinctively drew his hand away before stopping himself and relinquishing it. Phoenix held the wallet and badge up.

"Well, are you sure? I mean, it could be fake. Like I said, he could have been, uh, roleplaying?"

_I think that's what Maya called it, anyway…_

"What I mean is, it might not be a real badge. I mean, how do we even know what Secret Service badges even look like? They're supposed to be s_ecret, _aren't they?"

He heard the prosecutor sigh, a sigh he'd heard in and out of court very often, whenever the prosecutor felt he had to explain something blatantly obvious to everyone except the spikey-haired defence attorney.

"Wright, the Secret Service is hardly secret. Most of the United States of America know what the badge looks like, it is on the media much of the time…even that blasted Wikipedia you so love."

"Hey, most of the articles are good! And you can tell when they've been messed with, anyway, because there's no such year as 'Dougie is a hobo'."

Phoenix returned the exasperated expression with a grin, before continuing.

"Okay, okay, so I don't know what a USSS badge looks like, so sue me-"

The smile he was being given smacked so clearly of _Don't tempt me, Wright, _that he barrelled on hurriedly,

"-I mean, that only adds evidence to my argument, if everyone's supposed to know what these look like, that means anyone with skill at metalworking could forge one, am I correct?"

He grinned, putting his hands on his hips in his 'triumphant' pose.

_Yeah! Shoot *that* one down, Edgeworth!_

The prosecutor merely looked amused.

"I concede your argument could hold water –"

Phoenix punched the air. _Hell yeah!_

"-in a high school debate, at least –"

He winced. _Ow, harsh, Edgeworth! Can't you just admit I'm right for once?_

"-but you are unaware of the fact that I, unlike most of the population of this country, have seen a real Secret Service badge up close, and recently at that. A forger would be hard pressed to fool me. I can tell you with absolute certainty that _that," _he pointed to the silver star, "Is most certainly the genuine article."

Phoenix looked back down at the badge with renewed interest, before glancing back up.

"Wait, where'd you see a badge before?"

Edgeworth was focused on the wallet, and spoke without looking up.

"It was evidence for a case. A secret service agent was found dead in his apartment, the badge was impounded. Turned out he'd been holding it going down the stairs, tripped, and one of the points stabbed him in the stomach, causing him to bleed to death."

The defence attorney winced, then looked back down at the badge. It was an unassuming little thing, tarnished and blackened after so long in damp and dark. It was amazing how it changed everything about Gregory Edgeworth.

"So," he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, conversational, "Uh, how and why d'you reckon your dad was…you know."

Miles looked bemused.

"I haven't the foggiest idea. I'm still having trouble coming to terms with the fact he was one. It completely contradicts his lifestyle – he spent half of it at work in the courtroom and the other half with me. How could he have been…"

He lapsed into silence, looking thoughtful. Phoenix coughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, I always thought that protecting the president was a full-time job…"

At the sound of Miles' sigh, he inwardly cursed.

_Great, another lecture…_

"The United States Secret Service, Wright, was founded to monitor, prevent and otherwise investigate crimes against the Treasury. The protective role didn't come until much later. In addition to guarding the President, they also protect other major figures, and perform other high-profile missions."

Phoenix discreetly hid his yawn behind one hand, then nodded, bored.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just wonder why the hell your dad was one, especially if he was a full-time defence attorney and single parent into the bargain."

Edgeworth tapped his temple thoughtfully. Phoenix watched him with some amusement.

_I wonder if he knows how stupid he looks, doing that. _

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The finger suddenly stopped, resting gently against the vein. Miles' eyes were wide. He murmured something too quiet for Phoenix to hear. The spiky-haired man tilted his head.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that."

The man looked up, a determined gaze catching his own.

"The conferences. All those times that year, when I had to stay over yours or Larry's because father was heading out to a law conference? It was like that as long as I can remember, he'd go off several times a year for them. He'd never tell me about them afterwards, no matter how many times I asked, and he never gave me a reason why not. What if his trips weren't for law – at least in that sense – at all?"

Phoenix's mind was filled with sudden images of the nine-year-old Miles in fluffy pink pyjamas, lying on a camp bed in Phoenix's room, jamming a pillow over his head and complaining that the other two boys were making too much noise with their marshmallow fight.

He nodded slowly, licking his lips.

"Okay. So, we've established that your father was a Secret Service agent, and he probably used some old law conferences as a cover to go off on missions. Now we just need to know _why _he was an agent. No single dad wants to risk his life when his kid's not even into high school yet."

Miles nodded. He seemed paler than usual.

"You're right, Wr- er, I mean, you're correct. I get the feeling we've only just scratched the surface of this case."

As Phoenix glanced around, noting for the first time the badges - not the same as the one he held, but still very official-looking - on the strange opaque evidence bags, he was inclined to agree.

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><p><em><strong>Okay, several notes.<strong>_

_**Gah, I know nothing about US way of life/media/stuff, so I had to do some serious wikipedia-ing (love that site) to get some of the details here. Others may be totally wrong.**_

_**I am aware that a) a Secret Service symbol is gold (I'm not sur but I think the badges themselves are silver) and b) the prong of a badge wouldn't be big or sharp enough to puncture someone's stomach. I totally made that bit up because I thought it'd sound like it'd happen in the PW-verse. Srsly, inanimate objects are deadly in that universe. **_

_**I'm also aware that c) Warehouse agents aren't always Secret Service agents. But I needed some sort of ID he could have for the lawyers to find, and as the Warehouse don't have IDs (for obvious purposes) I gave him a USSS one. I like to think protection of artefacts counts as a protective role that a USSS agent would carry out.**_

_**Also am finding it hard to write for both Phoenix and Edgey right now for some reason, so some OOC occurs. I plead that the shock of finding out that Gregory was in fact, an agent, is making them act OOC :P**_

(PS, if anybody gets the Mock the Week reference in there, I'll be very impressed)


End file.
